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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25535398">Hold Me Gently and None Too Tightly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBaer/pseuds/KiwiBaer'>KiwiBaer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Communication, Established Relationship, M/M, Short &amp; Sweet, Tenderness, Trust</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:42:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25535398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBaer/pseuds/KiwiBaer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Too much?" Jaskier whispered the words into this delicate edge between them, no longer blunted with false nonchalance. Maybe they'd land better at a lower tone. Maybe Geralt could trust him enough to answer.</p><p>---</p><p>Geralt doesn't like his wrists being held.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>146</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hold Me Gently and None Too Tightly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*big ol shruggo* enjoy?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Mm. Don't do that." Geralt's voice was steady with the request, unshaken and unincensed, lazy with it. Only his words showed appropriate urgency, made it obvious for what it was: Geralt's understated need, gentled to not sour what was building between them. Jaskier retreated immediately, brought to a halt and dropping himself back into Geralt's ready lap. His lips forced away from the temptation of bruise-bloomed skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier reassessed, breath held, eyes flicking to meet Geralt's and then roaming his body for any cause of conflict. "Which part?" He kept his tone casual, matching Geralt's energy as he wiped his wet mouth into his shoulder. In case they needed decency for this conversation. Geralt so seldom said no to what Jaskier wanted from him like this, pliant to searching kisses and the odyssey of his callused fingertips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Too much?" Jaskier whispered the words into this delicate edge between them, no longer blunted with false nonchalance. Maybe they'd land better at a lower tone. Maybe Geralt could trust him enough to answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt remained silent a moment, letting them land, figuring it out himself. Hunted for an answer he didn't have beyond the discomfort in his skin, made mild by the trust he held in Jaskier but still unpleasant enough to stymie any attempts at fully enjoying him. The lines of Geralt's wrist flexed into Jaskier's palm, putting force against the bind until Jaskier drew his hands back down the witcher's arm, fluttered a touch below his elbow and then came to rest on his chest instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That." Geralt confirmed with a nod, tipping his head and closing his eyes against the necessary questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Your wrists, then? Was it the pin or the grip or…? Was it too tight? I can be gentler if it's sensitive. Or, or we can stop now if it’s…?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt shook his head. "Just don't grab."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pin then. Jaskier breathed out and nodded. Slowly allowed himself to settle with the new knowledge. He tucked it away with the unhappy logic of why such a thing might bother the Witcher, what bindings he might have endured that left him uncomfortable in the circle of Jaskier's hold. It was enough knowing this much, he wouldn't ask for more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ducked his head to where Geralt's hands remained by the splay of his hair, left where they were left when Jaskier had recoiled. Jaskier hummed now and returned to him, pressed a kiss into Geralt's palm just to feel it flex as he relaxed his fingers. He smiled against thick skin. Dragged his lips hot against the crease of Geralt's wrist, promised a hint of teeth with the part of his mouth. His efforts garnered him a new response, Geralt's breath huffed out with a shivering rhythm. So that was good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hummed again and sucked a mark into the pale skin, blood teased easy to the surface from the bounty of capillaries beneath his tongue. His hands trailed back to Geralt’s arms, tracing blue veins and white sealed wounds, evidence of life and hurt, but with an open palm, not aiming to grasp anywhere only to feel the texture of scars and hair catch the nerves of his hands. Feeling every warm inch of the Witcher's bulk and dancing fingertips just beneath his pressure sharp kisses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt's reactions were muted, but Jaskier luxuriated in the heavier breaths, the bounce of tendons under his mouth. Sealed his apology into Geralt's skin with loving contusions, a wax stamp pressed into parchment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier rocked back into Geralt's lap, conducting a new investigation as he looked over the sight of his Witcher. Geralt's white hair bunched and lax against the bed, hands dutifully remaining where put, left wrist reddened and purpling. A feast of metaphor in his repose, king lion lazing under attention and tending.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those cat eyes opened sluggishly, slow to find Jaskier's and ruining the poetry battering around his skull. The mighty beast looked embarrassed, eyes tipping to the rafters above, overburdened with thoughts and emotion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If…" There was a long pause after Geralt offered that first word. Jaskier didn't attempt acknowledgement, letting Geralt build to what he needed and instead ducking down to bite at his throat. His wolf (lion? No, that metaphor was lost) spoke better without the threat of a focused gaze, Jaskier more than satisfied with nestling into his pulse and tearing teeth into the words caught there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You can put them. Where you want them. If. You want them. Put." Awkward, jagged. But spoken aloud at last.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier tipped just enough to peer up, bit at the stubble on Geralt's jaw and voiced a curious sound. He was uncertain as to the objects referred and Jaskier's </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> certainly focused on things more important than a loosely defined object. Like the sandpaper scratch against every nerve pressed to Geralt, an addictive hint of pain added to his kisses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt let out a breath, Jaskier journeying closer to his lips and getting more distracting with every centimeter. "My arms. Put them where you want them and I'll stay."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a bitten off promise </span>
  <em>
    <span>to be good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because those words were reserved for Jaskier's tongue. Jaskier, the one who decided whether Geralt's actions warranted praise, when Geralt could never see them as such. Jaskier only asked simple actions of him, easily done, not things that deserved the whispered </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect, darling</span>
  </em>
  <span> he somehow earned. If Jaskier wanted him pinned, wanted him pliant, that was a harder request which perhaps warranted greater reward. He couldn't be good in that perfect way, couldn't give to the acrid discomfort of being held down, but he could alter the terms enough to be imperfectly good. He could </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hopped up in a moment, peering down at his Witcher with bright eyes and a lightning grin. "Oh?" He took the power he was given in an instant, not one to savor in it, but act. Suited them both well in that way. "Here we go then, big boy."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Jaskier dragged his hands above his head, stretched towards the headboard, crossed prettily and rested into the pillows. Geralt felt the pull across his muscles, the cord tension connecting his armpit and shoulder, a satisfying little stretch that one could puddle into after a second to adjust. Fingers pressed into Geralt's palms and Jaskier pushed his hands down firmly, denting the pillows in signal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met, Jaskier alive with control. Live wire eyes. He sparked. "Don't move them until I tell you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt allowed a small smile at that. Jaskier had his moods, varied in the ways he approached sex from day to day, and sometimes he knew how to play into the roughness of his tone and form a command without argument. He'd demand the lead. But this was too warm and loose for that tone. Jaskier wasn't asking for dominance tonight, just play. It was almost a relief. His voice came warm and rich, from his chest and a few inches lower, another aspect to sink for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without moving, Geralt leaned into the press, shifting up from the bones and soul of him, but not in resistance. He gave to the momentary pinning of his hands, no prickle of discomfort as with a bind around his wrist, and just a pillow of soft palm above, feather below.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pillow of the pseudo-command as well, laying over his mind like tender smothering. Listening to purred instructions felt achingly close to peace. He couldn't resist it, nor the kitten who rumbled it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course." </span>
</p>
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